The Comfort Of Candles
by BossaNovaBaby24
Summary: Angsty fic. Adama and Roslin meet in the corridor with the photos, and they reminisce on those close to them who have died. slight Adama/Roslin. Spoilers for season 3.


**Authors Note**

**Ok, here's my next story. It's a one-shot and is called "The Comfort of Candles"**

**Spoilers for season 2 (sacrifice) and season 3 (Passage, Maelstrom, Crossroads part 1 & 2)**

**Set after Balart's trial and after Kara's return.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters what-so-ever, so please don't sue. If you're still keen on suing me, then do it over the story that you think is the best. Leave me a little bit of ego as I go to prison.**

The corridors of Galactica were almost silent. The hum of the Battlestar was the only company Admiral William Adama had as he walked slowly past hatches. A skeleton crew were working the ship, while most were in their racks getting much needed rest. The Cylon attack had left the fleet in despair. With four of their ships destroyed in the battle, the fleet was forced to jump, but not without a cost. Another two of their ships were left floating, as their FTL drives were still spooling.

William Adama had made some controversial decisions in his career, but this one seemed to hit him hard. Every moment he had of peace, the screaming of the passengers rung in his ears. As a result, he had taken to walking the corridors at 'night'. _But it wasn't night_, Adama thought to himself, _there is no night where we are. _

If any crew members wandered past the Admiral at that time, they'd have noticed that he stopped at the same corridor every night.

Many of the corridors Adama passed through were dark. The lights that usually lit up the surrounding areas just flickered feebly and crew members were engulfed in darkness wherever they were. This corridor was different though. Candles glowed and flickered, illuminating the walls.

Adama noticed that a chair sat in the corridor. Many came down there when they had free time. Usually, they'd sit and stare at the surrounding photographs, but some would leave candles, bracelets, and possessions they have on them. It was a mark of respect to the deceased. The crew, however, thought that they were the only ones to be doing it, not realising that the Admiral too would go down the corridor, stand in front of the photos and just spend the night looking at the faces of those who died at the hands of the Cylons.

The only indication that he had been there were two candles consecutively lit and dark circles under his eyes when he was next in CIC.

Standing in front of two worn photographs, Adama gazed at the wall before him. _So many dead, _he thought sadly to himself, _so many who are not going to see earth. _

Suddenly a hand slowly grasped his shoulder. His old training kicked in, and he grabbed the hand roughly, pulling the person in front of him. Surprise hit him, and time seemed to stand still.

President Roslin stood in front of him, a fixed smile on her face. The smile didn't reach her eyes, however. They were filled with pain, suffering and loss. This didn't surprise Adama in the slightest. His eyes probably reflected the same emotions. His grip on her hand lightened slightly, and she moved away from him.

"Admiral," She greeted him formally, the fixed smile still playing on her lips, "What brings you to this corridor at this time?"

"I could ask you the same question Madame President," He countered, his gaze moving back to the same two photos in front of him, "What brings you off your ship to the Galactica?"

Roslin moved behind Adama, and he noted that she stopped in front of another photograph. Moving up behind her, he recognised the person in the photograph; Billy Keikeya, her previous aide.

She gently placed her finger tips on the photo, and slowly traced the outline of him, "He was so young," She whispered, emotion in her voice, "he didn't deserve it."

Pain stabbed at Adama's heart. It was his 'calculated risk' that had taken Billy from her. He was like a son to her, and Adama regretted deeply that she had to go through the pain that he himself had gone through many times.

"No-one deserves what has happened to them." Adama replied, moving back towards the opposite wall where he stood before.

Roslin joined him at his side, standing closer than what was considered appropriate for the two leaders of the fleet. If anyone came down the corridor, they'd suspect something, but Adama didn't want her to move away. Her position offered him comfort as he looked on the two pictures in front of him.

"Ahh, Captain Thrace and Katraine," Roslin acknowledged, placing her glasses on, "If I recall, Katraine was the one that saved one of our ships."

"Yeah," Adama nodded, smiling slightly at the memory. When he saw her step out of the raptor, his heart was bursting with pride. She was one who would risk her own life for that of the fleet, "She was one of the best pilots we had."

Silence engulfed them, as they stood staring at the pictures surrounding them. Candles burned lower, and the silence was broken every so often by the creak of the Battlestar.

"Why are you here Bill?" Roslin asked suddenly. Adama felt his heart lift when she called him 'Bill'. Aside from Colonel Tigh, she was the only one who called him it. It added a personal touch to their conversation. It wasn't the Admiral and President talking now, it was Bill and Laura.

"I come here every night." Adama replied slowly.

"I know you do. I see you," She added, at Adama's questioning stare, "When I come down this corridor."

Adama smiled slightly, his gaze returning to the wall in front.

"What I would like to know Bill," She continued, keeping the conversation going between them, "Is why you light three candles?"

"Ahhh," He smiled sadly, "one for Kara, one for Kat, and one for Zac. Just because they're gone, doesn't mean they should be forgotten."

Roslin smiled softly at him, before pulling a small candle out of her pocket. She moved towards the photograph of Billy and laid the candle down on the small make-shift table in front. Adama moved towards it, and offered Roslin a match.

She took it gratefully, her politicians smile fixed on her face, and lit the candle. She then proceeded to close her eyes, breathing in.

"The ones we love never leave us Bill," She whispered, her eyes still closed. He fixed his gaze intently on her, relaxing when he saw her eyes open and look towards him aswell.

"I know," He replied softly, picking the burning candle off of the table. He moved back to his original position and lit the candles in front of him, "but it still doesn't make it any less painful."

Roslin's hand rested lightly on his forearm. Her hand moved slowly up and down, as if trying to wash away the guilt and pain that Adama felt. It was quite therapeutic, Adama decided, as he felt himself relax.

"Admiral," She used his title playfully, "Your maths must have been affected by the fight. The amount of candles in front of you is wrong. Kara Thrace is sitting in your brig-"

"That thing is not Kara Thrace," He interrupted curtly, staring intently at Kara's smiling face in the photograph, "I don't know what it is, but it's not Kara."

Roslin seemed unperturbed by his sudden interruption, and a smile still played on her lips, "Well that explains the three candles then, but you seem to have lit four."

Her last statement was met with silence. Adama then slowly turned towards her, and his voice was thick with emotion. Roslin had never heard that tone before. It had a rough edge to it, raw emotion seeping through.

"For Lee."

"He's not dead, Bill."

"I know. Like you said Laura, the ones we love never leave us. So why does it feel like I have lost both of my sons?"

"He'll come around," Roslin replied softly, tugging at his arm, "now you need some sleep Admiral. I can't have you falling asleep in CIC. Imagine what it'd do to morale."

Adama smiled and allowed himself to be guided down the corridor towards his quarters. A thought suddenly crossed his mind;

"How come you see me down this corridor, and yet I never see you?"

A genuine smile passed Roslin's lips, and her eyes held a glint of mischief.

"I'm a politician," She stated simply, staring at him over her glasses. Her gaze was piercing, "stealth is my best asset."

With that, she slowly walked off, leaving Bill at his hatch, a weight off of his chest. He smiled, shook his head and entered his quarters, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep.

Roslin slowed as she went up the corridor, and turned around to see Adama's hatch slowly close behind him.

"Until tomorrow night Bill." With that, she sighed and walked towards the docking bay.


End file.
